


The Borders of Love

by Aglardes



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Drabble, Inner Dialogue, Inner Struggles, M/M, Prostitution, Short Story, Slice of Life, aoba is a university student, aoba is also a gay prostitute, borders of love, explicit mentions of sex, feelings of pity, gay prostitute, married man, mikado is a married man (to anri probably) in his thirties, mikado is his client
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aglardes/pseuds/Aglardes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba, a gay prostitute, can't bring himself to ask his favorite costumer to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Borders of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while studying for my exams. Quickly. Hence why the writing style sucks.  
> This site needs more Aoba x Mikado  
> They're maybe OOC I realise that. I originally wrote this for another fandom.  
> (That's why Mikado is in his thirties. Heh, can you imagine what he would look like? :p)

His hands move towards his penis, to  take the used condom off, but I bend forward and stop him. ‘Don’t bother, let me do it,’ I say.  
There is a careful smile plastered on his face. ‘You’d better not, Aoba-kun. I will get hard again if you touch me now.’ He warns me.  
‘That’s okay,’ I mutter. We’re going over time but it’s all right.  
He sighs audibly, and I know he wants it. ‘It’s not. I don’t have the money for this.’  
My hands reach forward anyway. ‘It’s fine. I will give you a freebie since you’re my best customer after all,’ I say with a smile. He blushes upon hearing my words and somehow that excites me. I hadn’t planned on doing anything but a handjob, but I want more as well now. This is bad.

\---------------------------------------

Afterwards we’re lying sideways on the bed of the hotel room together, both somewhat exhausted. I should tell him to leave and take a shower, but this situation rather… pleases me. I don’t want to get up. I didn’t have any appointments planned for later tonight anyway since I have this big ass test coming up tomorrow.  
Oh _shit_.  
The test.  
I forgot all about that.

Probably having noticed my changing expressions, he speaks up, looking straight into my eyes. I don’t really like the position we’re in because it makes us look like something we are not. I never allow my other clients to lay beside me like that. Or to stay.  
‘Are you all right?’  
I nod.  
‘Are you sure? You seem troubled,’ He asks.  
I close my eyes and sigh. ‘Nah, it’s just that I have a big test coming up tomorrow and I forgot all about it.’

Clouds seem to trouble his blue eyes. It’s almost pretty. Pretty in a sad way.  
‘That’s right, you’re still a university student, Aoba-kun,’ he says, words coming out slowly, like he’s overthinking things again. He always thinks a lot before speaking up and that’s one of the things I like about him.

I don’t answer but instead reach out my hands to touch his face. He looks so tired and disheveled.  
‘Don’t you have … other appointments?’ He asks, carefully, as if he’s not wanting to hurt me with his words. Or maybe himself. I know he likes me after all.  
I shake my head. ‘Not today,’ I say with a faint smile.  
_His eyes just lit up!_ He’s really bad at controlling his feelings.

He swallows and I can see he wants to ask me something. ‘Go ahead,’ I say.  
I know what he wants to ask after all. It’s not that hard to guess.  
‘Why- I’m sorry if I sound terribly rude- but why is a nice boy like you working as a prostitute?’  
I involuntary laugh and he flinches. ‘Why does a respectable married man like you visit gay prostitutes, Mikado-san?’ I ask.  
_Ah._ He seems hurt.

‘I… I don’t know. I’ve just always thought there was something wrong with me and I wanted to try it out once and then I saw your picture on that site and you looked so young and… honestly I just called you because I thought I would be able to talk to you, I never had the intention to .. to actually have sex with you.’ He blurts out, and there’s panic in his voice, though his posture suggests that he’s actually calm. He's never rushed things like this before.  _Weird._

‘You’d bring a prostitute to a hotel just to talk?’ I say with a smirk, and enjoy the blush creeping up on his cheeks. ‘I’m sorry for tempting you then.’ I add. But I’m not.

‘I thought talking with a gay person would help me figure out if I was one myself.’ He admits. I almost roll my eyes, because _like_  i _f that wasn’t freaking obvious._ Men like him pay for my services all the time. They’re married and have been locking up their gay thoughts for long and in the end they just... crash. It’s not like I mind, but it irritates me how they can’t be true to themselves. No...  
I pity them.

Especially him. He’s addicted to me and keeps on asking for me every time. He’s one of the more handsome ones though, and he’s always gentle too. He doesn’t smell either. Or order me around and honestly, I rather enjoy our times together. But he’s pitiful. That’s why I hate how _he’s_ the one looking at me with those eyes right now. Like _I’m_ the one supposed to be pitied. I’m not.  
‘I enjoy doing this job,’ I say, just to test his reaction.  
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t move. ‘You do?’  
I nod.  
‘Well, you wouldn’t have taken this job otherwise, I assume,’ He reasons, vocalising his thoughts.  
I shake my head. ‘I needed the money. This pays very well and all I have to do for it is to have sex. I literally get money for feeling good. That’s a pretty awesome deal, isn’t it?’ 

  
_Don’t look at me with those eyes!_

  
‘Do you feel good every time? With everyone?’ He asks in response, ignoring my question.  
‘Not every time. Not with everyone,' I reply truthfully. There's no merit in lying anyway.  
Some of the men buying me are honestly disgusting and I can’t deny there have been moments during which I just wanted to run away. There have even been times during which I couldn’t get it up because E _verything. Becomes. So.  Boring.... after a while._ But never with him.  
I’m not telling him that.

He grants me a smile and then ruffles his hand through my hair. ‘I’m sorry,’ he tells me.  
When I hear those words, I chase him out of the room and he doesn’t protest.

When his silhouette disappears through the door I feel the strange need to run after him and put my arms around his back. I want to turn him around and push him against the door, kissing him like I actually mean this and not just because I get paid for it. I wanna see how he goes weak in my arms and how his knees give in. _Yes._  
I will drop to the floor and continue kissing him. I will pull him down and over me, like he’s a blanket I want to be covered with. I will whisper in his ears what I want him to do to me, blowing softly on the shell and he will get embarrassed. I will put my hands through his hair and pull it towards me, like I can claim him for my own that way. I will try not to notice the smell that always accompanies him. The smell of the woman who’s supposed to love him but who will never be able to satisfy him wholly. I almost pity her.  
  
I will keep him close to me and erase all the memories of the other guys who ever held me until all I can think about is him and until all he can think about is me and until we’ve forgotten that we don’t actually love each other.  
 

He will come back next week.


End file.
